We Were Gods
by BeyondTheHorizonIsHope
Summary: To be a Jaeger pilot was to be a myth fully realized, worshiped by all. Invincible, infallible, we were the saviors of the world, but who would save us when we fell? Herc/OC.
1. Indigo Sun

**It is a bit ridiculous how much I loved Pacific Rim, so of course I needed to write a story for it. This isn't a strictly romantic story. My character isn't dependent on it. This is about a Jaeger pilot, the affects of war and fame, and a deeper exploration into the fascinating world of the PPDC. That being said, all characters from the movie will show up at one point or the other.**

**I own nothing but my OCs.**

* * *

"All gods are homemade, and it is we who pull the strings, and so, give them the power to pull ours." -Aldous Huxley

**Chapter One  
****Indigo Sun****  
**

Remember K-Day. Those posters had been plastered on every building, every bulletin board, every flat surface people could stick them to. Songs were written, documentaries were made, and rumor had it there was even a Hollywood production in the works. The Kaiju was on display in some museum, tens of thousands of lives were lost and the crippling effects to the military on the Pacific coast would last for nearly a year.

Remember K-Day? There would be no forgetting it.

Especially for those of us who survived.

I was twenty-three when Trespasser attacked, technically an adult but still very wide-eyed about the world. It was my fifth year in the United States Army. My father had been a Brigadier General and left me bound and determined to fight my way out from beneath his shadow. I was his legacy, chasing a dream I thought I could never catch.

My unit was training at Fort Hunter-Liggett, about three hours south of San Francisco. So when Trespasser hit the Golden Gate Bridge, we were the cavalry, the wave of mortals thrown against the behemoth god in hopes of slowing him down.

I was the co-pilot for a UH-60 Black Hawk helicopter and for six days and nights, we weaved in and out of the battered city, running danger close rescue missions for civilians and downed pilots. San Francisco was a warzone, damaged, flooded, and burning. It was filled with the sort of images you expected to see from a third world country, not America. Not here. I witnessed buildings collapse before we could get to the survivors stranded on top, calling for help. I watched them fall to their deaths and heard their screams. It almost made me sick in the cockpit, and did when we'd finally landed. I don't remember ever keeping food down.

Once we flew so close to the Kaiju, I thought I could reach out and touch its scaly side. The creature was impossibly massive. We must have been like flies to it, nothing more than a nuisance. Even our missiles only looked to sting it. I never thought we could beat it.

Until the nuke.

San Francisco is uninhabited now. Millions of people were evacuated, thousands still don't have homes. It is an eerie graveyard, a memorial to those lost and a reminder to us that no matter how big we grow, we are only beginning to scratch the surface of our universe.

I received commendations for my service on K-Day, awards, promotion, empty things that couldn't fill the void San Francisco had torn into me. Suddenly I felt very old, my curiosity snuffed out, but there was a renewed determination deep inside of me. My life was no longer about chasing brass or a father's dream. This creature had given me purpose in the military. If it was not alone, I wanted to be there. I wanted to see it. I wanted to say I helped stop it.

And for a while, we thought Trespasser was alone. The world went back to the way it was, and I was even starting to contemplate a life outside the military.

But then came Manila. Cabo. Sydney. This was not going to end. It had only started.

Our attacks were becoming less and less effective. The world was losing hope. I was stationed in Los Angeles, the main line of defense, when the riots broke out from the sheer terror of the unknown. Thirty people died in three days.

Then the world was introduced to Brawler Yukon.

Straight from the pages of a science fiction novel, it was a giant robot sent to fight the monsters that terrorized us. Part of me wanted to cry out in joy, the other part wanted to laugh at how ridiculous it all looked, like the most elaborate hoax ever concocted. No one thought it was real, but Vancouver was saved and the Kaiju Karloff destroyed because of the technical marvel.

That was when I heard the Pan Pacific Defense Corps was looking for pilots for future robots, or Jaegers as they called them.

I had my transfer orders prepared the next day.

* * *

**April 17****th****, 2018**

**Los Angeles Shatterdome**

_Indigo Sun, this is LOCCENT, initiating Neural Handshake._

There are no words to properly describe the Drift. It is barely contained chaos, a pool of memories and thoughts and emotions that you must dive into without getting wet. Grasp one for even a second too long and it could drag you into the depths.

I'm on a lake in the mountains. I was ten and it was our last family vacation.

Graduation from flight school. My dad is there and though he lacks the emotion of other family members, I know he is proud of me.

My sister at a cheerleading competition. This is her memory, not mine, but like they say, there are no secrets in the Drift. Everything is ours now.

San Francisco is burning below me. My co-pilot is screaming at me as we narrowly avoid a swipe from Trespasser.

My sister is in a hotel room. She's on the bed and…

Ew.

The Drift kicks you back hard and fast, and even though your body has never actually moved, there is always the sensation of falling forward. Suddenly the world has clarity on a level you never thought possible. You're seeing from two different perspectives, hearing from two different places. Your thoughts are connected to another person, processed by them at the exact moment you think of them, and vice versa. You know what they will say, what they will do, and have a sense of everything they have done throughout the course of their lives. All you have to do is tap and find a memory you never lived through. It was no wonder so many pilots had chased the rabbit. Curiosity was a powerful drug.

_Right hemisphere calibrated._

In unison, our right arms lift, but only my hand has the glowing control console. This side of Indigo Sun belongs to me.

_Left hemisphere calibrated._

The same happens to our left arms, only my sister has the console now.

Evangeline is six years younger than me, and my exact opposite. I had been the tomboy. She had embraced her girly side. I joined the military. She took up cheerleading. I studied; she partied. I was quiet; she was loud. No one would have ever picked her for this job, but Evangeline was the best Drift compatible candidate there was, and she dropped everything to help me. To this day, even with the technology linking our minds together, I still can't make sense of it.

_Final phase initiated. Indigo Sun is ready for launch._

As the crews attach cables to the exterior of our Jaeger, Evangeline and I flex the arms of our colossal machine. Its movements are slow, but you can feel the power coursing through the metalwork as if they were your own limbs. You know every strength, every weakness, every limitation, but compared to our fragile bodies, it feels invincible. You feel invincible.

_Cables attached. Prepare for launch._

The sound of groaning metal is massive as a handful of helicopters struggle against the weight of our Jaeger. It did not even seem possible that something this size could be airlifted anywhere, but witnessing the impossible was pretty run of the mill these days. Down on the bay floor and on railings all around us, crew chiefs, mechanics, and scientists watch our departure. Some pray, some cheer, all hope that we come back in one piece with one less Kaiju in the world.

I glance over at my sister as she watches the Shatterdome disappear below us. "Sorry Michael didn't live up to your expectations."

"Shut up, Carol." She doesn't even look at me but I can feel her frustration. No doubt she can feel my amusement.

"I told you he was compensating for something."

"I said, shut up."

"Do you think next time you could warn me before we Drift? I don't exactly appreciate seeing my little sister doing-"

Evangeline turns to me, blue eyes on fire. Her anger burns in my conscious, far more scathing than any physical pain.

"Alright, alright, I'm done." I pause, feeling my thoughts drifting toward the memory again. "God, I feel dirty."

"Carol!"

"Ladies!" A voice booms in our helmets, making our ears ring. Double the exposure, double the sensitivity. "If you are done bickering, there is a Kaiju 300 miles offshore that needs to be killed."

Colonel Ryan Peck, formerly of the United States Air Force, was in charge of overseeing operations in the Los Angeles Shatterdome. He was a hard man but got things done, though sometimes not in the safest of fashions. Many of the pilots resented him because he had no experience with a Jaeger, not that many did. My dislike of him came at a more personal level: he hated my sister.

Out of the six Jaeger pilots housed at the facility, Evangeline was the only one without prior military experience. She, as he had often stated, lacked the discipline, knowledge, and maturity to be given such a precious position. And while it was true, my sister could be a bit on the rowdy side, Colonel Peck's beloved discipline had suffered at the hands of his military personnel as well. Being a Jaeger pilot made you an overnight celebrity, worshipped and stalked like any other person out of Hollywood. There had been scandals, sex tapes, and drug busts, enough to make the tabloids squeal with joy.

"Sorry, sir," we reply in unison. I can hear our Chief Technology Officer, Harrison Stokes, laughing in the background. Colonel Peck may not have been a fan, but Stokes loved our squabbles. We were almost certain he had a blog.

"The event took place nearly half an hour ago, a Category Three Kaiju, codename: Hammerhead. Satellites are tracking its movements and predict landfall in Los Angeles if it stays on its current path. Indigo Sun's mission is to intercept and eliminate. Mammoth Apostle will run coastline patrol and provide backup if necessary."

Indigo Sun is dangling over the shallows of Santa Monica Bay. I can almost hear the clicks of thousands of cameras as they witness a titan's trek into battle.

"How big are we talking, sir?" I ask as the helicopters slow and begin to hover over our destination.

He's silent a moment. "By our estimates, we're looking at the biggest Cat Three we've ever witnessed."

Evangeline and I share a look. A pang of fear travels through our connection, though I can't say who it belonged to. Maybe both of us.

_Drop point reached. Prepare for drop in 3…2…1._

The cables let loose and for a moment, it feels like we simply float, unaffected by gravity, before dropping hard into the water. We braced ourselves, but a shaky feeling always remains in your legs as the sensation travels up the Jaeger well into where your suit connects with the machine. We stand together, bringing Indigo Sun back to its full height, and watch the horizon as the nav screen indicates the Kaiju is now 250 miles out.

"Civilian vessels have been ordered to clear the area, but don't risk yourselves for any stragglers. We can't afford to lose another Jaeger like Romeo Blue."

"Roger that." The transmission cuts out, leaving us in silence. I can feel Evangeline's anger, no longer directed toward me, but Colonel Peck instead. Indigo Sun was the newest Jaeger to the Shatterdome, a Mark III class, technically the most advanced one at our station, but truthful to its name, Mammoth Apostle was the far larger machine, though only a Mark II. My sister thinks the positions should have been switched, and frankly I agree with her.

"Nothing we can do about it now, Evie." I turn to her and grin. "So why don't we go kill this bastard and show Mammoth who's in charge here?"

To watch two pilots drive their Jaeger was a spectacle to say the least. These enormous machines could not move like regular human beings, so neither could we. The steps we took were large, the movements clunky and awkward, but with our minds linked to the machine, it felt as normal as going for a stroll in the park. Together, we walk Indigo Sun into the deep waves, power that could crush sea vessels hardly fazing us as we align ourselves for interception.

There is a strange calm that falls over us as we wait. I stand somewhere on the paper thin line between fear and excitement. The adrenaline starts to pump in my veins as I anticipate the fight. This creature is a thousand times my own size, and I am taking him on in a metal suit. One wrong move and my sister and I would not be returning home. One second not concentrated on the battle and we could lose all control of the Jaeger. The city was depending on the ability of two people to not lose themselves in the past.

Kaiju move impossibly fast in the water, and it does not take long for Hammerhead to close the distance between us. We watch blip on the nav screen come closer and closer to our current position, but still see nothing on the horizon.

"Something's not right," Evangeline mumbles.

"Evie, keep your eyes on the water." I toggle the sensors, hoping to get a better idea at where the approaching beast was, but there was nothing to be done. These waters were not that deep. If this Kaiju was as big as the Colonel said, it should have been visible to us. "Stokes, where is this thing?"

"I've got nothing!" his voice chimed in. "The scanners are useless. It should be right on top of you."

The fear is near palpable. "Get back to the shallow water."

"What?" Evangeline knows my thoughts but she still can't grasp them.

"Get the Jaeger back to the shallows! Now!"

We turn Indigo Sun, but its movements are slower in the water, and time has run out.

I hear it before I see it, a sound of thunder to our right flank. The water rises like a mountain beside us before the tension breaks, revealing the launching Kaiju. It truly is massive, face elongated on the sides, like that of the Hammerhead shark, finned, but with long, reaching arms and a legless tail. Its glowing mouth locks onto our right arm, twisting it backwards as it drags us back down into the water.

* * *

**Thanks for reading!**


	2. Kaiju Killer

**Hello everyone! Thanks for all the responses! You guys are too generous! Now, I know there is a lot of OC action in this, but trust me, we'll see the movie characters coming soon. If it bothers you too much, feel free to let me know. I aim to please. That being said, here is the next chapter. I must say, I really enjoyed writing the fight scene.**

* * *

**Chapter Two**

**Kaiju Killer**

_I'm lying on my bed in our old house, the one in the valley that would flood in the spring. My radio volume is maxed out, but I can still hear their voices. Back and forth they go, blow for blow, each insult worse than the last. They almost made it a week this time. I wanted to hope that meant it was getting better. _

_My door opens. There stands Evangeline, all of six, carrying her favorite stuffed dog and sniffling. She quickly slams it shut again and crawls onto my bed. I welcome her with open arms, holding her tightly as she grasps the fabric of my shirt. _

"_Why are they so mean?"_

_I sigh. I barely understand it myself. Twelve is hardly an age to explain anything. "Some people just don't get along, and that makes them fight."_

"_I thought they loved each other."_

_So did I. "Sometimes…people just stop."_

_Evangeline sighs and snuggles closer. She'll stay here tonight. I'm okay with that. More often than not, she finds her way into my bedroom. It's further away from where our parents sleep. _

"_It's coming back," she whispers. _

_I look down at her. "What's coming back?"_

_She looks me dead in the eye. "Wake up."_

"Wake up, Carol!"

Gasping, my eyes fly open. My arm is on fire. I do not even try to hold back the scream as circuits in my drivesuit short and singe my skin. Evangeline is still shouting, her thoughts entering my mind. She's concerned for me and she's afraid. There would be no piloting this thing on her own.

Through our connection, I become aware of the dangerous situation we have been placed in. Hammerhead has dragged us deep into the water, using the element of surprise to push our massive Jaeger onto its back. Leaks have sprung all over the Conn-Pod and water is rapidly filling up the chamber. Our vents are still open. We had not exactly been counting on getting knocked flat on our ass.

"-break the connection! That Kaiju is still out there and he's circling back for us!"

"I got it! I got it!" I take a deep breath, focusing again. My world felt like it was spinning. "We gotta flip the Jaeger, but my arm is pretty shot!"

With our connection re-established, Evangeline's fear disappears almost instantly, replaced by a cocky smile, one she definitely never had before the academy. "That's what you've got me for."

Together, we swing our left arms across our bodies, using the momentum to roll Indigo Sun onto its front. With the Jaeger essentially on its hands and knees, we are suspended in the air, held in place by our foot and spinal locks. It makes our movements slow as we attempt to stand back up, and Hammerhead is still out there with a clear advantage. If he knocks us down again, there may be no second chance.

Just as we emerge from the waves, the sensors go off the charts. The whole machine shakes with a terrifying magnitude as Hammerhead crashes down on our back. Indigo Sun lands hard on its knees, the systems sparking as we strain to keep the Conn-Pod out of the water. The Kaiju claws at the framework on our back. The sound of shredding metal is aggravating and we grit our teeth in strain.

"Systems are overheating!" Evangeline shouts, running her hand over the instrument panel. "We're leaking coolant on the right side!"

My mind quickly runs over our options. "Open the exhaust ports! Let's get this Kaiju off our back!"

Embedded deep in the core of Indigo Sun is a nuclear reactor, which is the source of power for all Jaegers from Mark 1 through 3. The design called for exhaust vents located on the backside in the form of two long, thin stripes that map out where the shoulder blades would be had Indigo Sun been a living thing. That is precisely where the Kaiju is resting its ugly mug.

We can't see what our action does, but the sound of a painful howl followed by a lightened load on our back tells us that several thousand degrees was enough to do the trick.

We reach full height, able to breathe small sighs of relief as the playing field begins to even out again. Hammerhead flounders in the shallower waters, burn marks trailing up and down its midsection, and blinding it in one eye. It's one of the ugliest Kaijus I've ever seen, half dragging itself with its clawed front arms, half propelling itself with the tail that looks razor sharp to the touch. It was a dangerous predator in deep waters, but on land Hammerhead looked about as useless as the shark it was named after.

The idea comes to us simultaneously.

"Care to do the honors, Evie?"

There's that smirk again. "Thought you'd never ask."

Our left arms lift and pump down. From the forearm of the Jaeger emerges twin blades set on either side. Shaped like crescents, they slide up before locking into place by the wrist, essentially turning the arm into a battle-axe. With the hand well exposed, Indigo Sun can still throw a devastating punch, with an added kick.

And that is precisely what we do.

We take two massive steps forward before bringing our left arms far back and delivering an uppercut to the Kaiju's jaw. Our blades slice through its hide, leaving two deep cuts under its elongated face. It cries out in agony again, flying backwards further into the shallows. We continue to drive forward, with Evangeline taking most of the work. My right arm can still technically function, but for now we leave it still and resting on my side. The less strain to it, the better.

The water can be no deeper than 25 feet. We are dangerously close to the city, a half mile away at best. I can even see news choppers hovering in the distance, pushing their no fly zone boundaries. Dozens of reporters had become collateral damage over the years from these fights. The things people would do for headlines.

Hammerhead struggles to get closer to us, but there is not enough water to propel its massive body. It claws at the sand below the surface and its tail sloshes back and forth, creating colossal waves in its wake, but doing nothing for its cause. Genetics appear to fail this creature.

"Alright, let's end this," I say as we close in on the Kaiju.

We lift the axe up, aiming for its head. It continues to flail in the water and I am almost tempted to grab the thing and hold it still when a high pitched scream escapes its lungs. Suddenly, two glowing lines on either side of its tail detach themselves. The tail is reduced to near nothing as Hammerhead suddenly forms hind legs that, very effectively, launch it toward us.

We definitely did not see that one coming.

"Oh shit!" Fast as she can, Evangeline switches from offense to defense, lowering the arm just in time to block Hammerhead's attack. Its mouth grips the arm tightly, attempting to tear it apart, while the rest of its body wraps around our frame, pinning it to us. "Shit! Shit! Shit!"

Thinking quickly, I activate the blades on the right arm, hoping to pry the Kaiju off our arm, if not completely decapitating the thing. I'm about to swing when the visor picks up movement. The tail of Hammerhead resembles a stinger now, and sits poised to strike at the heart of the Conn-Pod, at us. It launches and my arm shoots out, just able to grab the tail before it makes contact.

"Son of a bitch!" The pain in my arm is excruciating. I can see the veins pulsing in my eyes. I feel faint.

"Oh, don't you dare go out on me now!" Evangeline shouts. "I am not dying in this rust bucket!"

"Ah, shut up and hold the Kaiju!"

Evangeline takes momentary control as I charge up the plasma cannon. Unlike Gipsy Danger to the north, which had one situated in each arm, the chest cannon was it for Indigo Sun. Twice the size with double the power, it could devastate a Kaiju with a single hit. However, the charge time was tedious and one shot left it all but useless for the remainder of battle, unless you planned on taking hours. We most certainly didn't.

_Plasma Cannon charging. 25%_

The stinger flails in my grasp, ripping my arm back and forth across my chest. I let out a slew of curse words as the pain shoots through my whole body. It takes all my energy just to keep it from attacking the Conn-Pod again. If I did not know better, I would think the Kaiju knew I was injured.

_Plasma Cannon charging. 50%_

Hammerhead continues to gnaw on the left arm. Evangeline manages to move it back and slice its mouth open with the blades, but that only angers it and makes it bite with more ferocity. I can see the strain on her face and feel the pain as her own arm starts to suffer from the suit's connection to the Jaeger.

_Plasma Cannon charging. 75%_

"Whose bright idea was it to install this thing?" Evangeline hisses as we struggle to maintain our hold and keep upright. Our legs have dug deep into the ocean floor but are still sliding.

_Plasma Cannon ready. Prepare for discharge._

A near blinding blue light erupts from the chest cavity of Indigo Sun. I could swear the Kaiju looks almost surprised before the cannon fires into it. At that proximity, the shot tears completely through its neck, leaving very little of its scaly hide to keep the head attached to its body as it goes flying back into the shallows, limp and lifeless.

The lights flicker as the Jaeger recharges from the shot. Evangeline and I drop our arms, breathing deeply, practically gasping, as we stare at the corpse of Hammerhead. I feel beads of sweat dripping down my face and wish more than anything that I could reach them in the helmet. My arm is pulsing and the pain still gnaws at my skin. Doctor Ruiz is going to kill me.

Evangeline looks at me, clearly just as tired. Her helmet is starting to fog up. So is mine.

"What the hell-"

* * *

"-happened out there!"

Colonel Peck is not a handsome man when angry, not that he was any better looking at any other point in time. His face turns a rather hilarious shade of red when he is on a tirade. Evangeline made the mistake of laughing at him once. Now she stands at attention even straighter than me. Lesson well learned I suppose.

My arm is wrapped in layers of bandages, from my wrist to just short of my shoulder, and lies in a sling. Even with the pain medication starting to kick in, I can still feel it pulse, like the electric current became trapped in my tissue. The burns the drivesuit left on my arm are very straight and precise, like the circuitry that ran it. Doctor Ruiz says there is no doubt the marks will be permanent. It's a more common injury than the PPDC likes to let on. They had yet to find a safer means to connect the pilots to their Jaegers.

I glance at my sister. "An equipment malfunction, sir."

He paused. "Indigo Sun is torn half to hell, and you expect me to believe the blame is on the equipment?"

"No, sir, not all of the blame." Even without the connection, I feel as though Evangeline wants to yell at me, like she's being thrown under the bus, but she stays silent. She always lets me handle these matters. "As Rangers, we do hold a certain level of responsibility when it comes to the handling of our Jaegers. That being said, the sensors failed to detect Hammerhead before it launched an attack on us, sir. I can attest to that. So can my sister and Stokes."

"It's true, sir," Evangeline says, "We didn't know where the Kaiju was until it had sunk its teeth into the hull."

Colonel Peck was silent a moment. We watch him pace behind his desk. He is a balding man, but chooses to keep his head completely shaved. Like some of the other higher ranking officials, he wears his PPDC dress blues to work, outfitted with ribbons and badges he had received while in the Air Force. There were only two ribbons specifically for the PPDC, one for joining and one for taking out a Kaiju. It must burn him to know my sister has a ribbon he'll never have a chance of getting.

"Did you run the proper checks before launch?"

"Yes, sir. Twice over, but…" I pause. A theory has been forming in the back of my mind, or perhaps just a curiosity. I don't know why I want to voice it. There is no proof. Evangeline knows what I want to say, she was in my head after all, and gives me a look. Now is not the time.

"But?"

I take a deep breath. "Sir, maybe the equipment isn't to blame for the malfunction. Maybe…maybe it's the Kaiju."

Evangeline sighs. Colonel Peck looks at me like I'm crazy. He leans against his desk and crosses his arms. "Come again?"

"We know the Kaiju are growing larger and stronger. Hammerhead proved that much today. But, sir, they are also adapting. I've watched the vids from countless attacks. Taking down the Kaiju is becoming more and more difficult. They know our strategies and are starting to turn that knowledge against us."

Colonel Peck gives me a hard look. "Captain Gregory, are you trying to tell me that these mindless beasts somehow have the capability of jamming our technology?"

Technically, all rank from previous units is supposed to be stripped from us when we joined the Jaeger program. We were Rangers, unless we commanded a Shatterdome, but many people overlooked this. Colonel Peck especially liked to address us by our military rank.

"I know it sounds crazy, sir, but five years ago, the thought of giant monsters emerging from the Pacific Ocean felt just as insane. At the end of the day, we still hardly know a thing about the Kaiju, and perhaps we shouldn't take so lightly the possibility that they are capable of things we can't even imagine."

The silence that passes lasts forever. I feel myself melting under the Colonel's gaze, but my eyes never leave his. I learned to stand my ground a long time ago.

"Captain Gregory, has anyone ever told you how remarkable your bullshitting skills are?"

The corner of my mouth twitches. He isn't going to take me seriously. "Once or twice, sir."

He looks at my sister. "Ranger, you're dismissed. Get ready for the press conference. Captain, I want you to stay."

Evangeline salutes, and turns toward the door, not so subtly bumping into me. The message is clear: don't piss this guy off. Easier said than done.

Colonel Peck sits behind his desk. He gestures that I take the chair across from him. I watch him, feeling a little uneasy about the situation, as he fumbles with some papers on his desk, then the ribbons on his chest. I'm not sure what he gets out of making me wait, but I don't like it.

"How's the arm, Captain?"

At this point, I can hardly feel it. "It's been better, sir."

He leans against the desk, interlocking his fingers together. "I want to talk about what happened in the Jaeger."

There is a smartass buried deep inside that wants to have a crack at him, but I reign in the urge. "Sir, I don't understand what you're-"

"I'm referring to when you chased the rabbit."

Suddenly the room feels very cold and my mouth has gone dry. I had been hoping this could be avoided, but what was I thinking? LOCCENT has technology specifically constructed to detect a breach in the neural handshake. One second out of alignment and they know.

"I wouldn't call it that, sir."

"What would you call it, Captain?"

I sigh and think a moment, trying to get the right words. "When Hammerhead grabbed us, the pain and shock from the attack caused me to black out. My subconscious grabbed the first memory it came to. I had no choice in the matter. And in my defense, sir, I got out fairly quickly."

"That you did," Colonel Peck agreed, though he still had a suspicious air about him. "Is this going to be a problem in the future?"

I look him dead in the eye, a serious, hardened veteran of the Kaiju War. "Absolutely not, sir."

"Good." The Colonel stands and I join him, moving to the door. "Go get ready for the press conference, Captain, and report back here immediately after its closure."

"Sir?"

"You have a visitor," he replies, sounding displeased.

We didn't get visitors. Our dad is somewhere in Germany and mom…

We just didn't get visitors.

"Who, sir?"

"Marshal Pentecost."

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**Again, thanks for reading! Until next time!**


	3. The Big Question

**Thank you again for all the wonderful reviews and alerts and favorites! I have actually just finished reading the book. If you haven't read it, I'd highly recommend it, although a lot of the content deviates from the movie. Anything that was different in my story so far is pretty much going to stay the same, but I'm trying really hard to follow canon almost exactly (which is why I've made Herc a sergeant, because the book says so, but honestly, I doubt that's his actual rank). Extra long chapter here! I'm starting to get carried away with this. It's just so exciting!**

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**Chapter Three**

**The Big Question**

I watch all the reporters crowded together in front of us. They look like predators, hungry and ready to pounce on the unsuspecting, ready to pounce on me if I don't keep it together.

There is a reason I don't like attending these things.

It happens after every Kaiju attack. The commanding officer of the Shatterdome, in this case Colonel Peck, releases an official statement regarding the incident and subsequent dispatching of the Kaiju, and then opens the floor for questions. All available Rangers from the mission, which today are my sister and I (Mammoth Apostle was told to stand down, much to their chagrin), are lined up at a table, each with a microphone in front of them, to accept and answer as many of the reporters' queries as possible. It reminds me of post-game interviews I used to see on television. I even saw someone in an Indigo Sun jersey once.

Colonel Peck is delivering his statement now, though I hardly hear a thing he says. Words fail to describe the experience of fighting a Kaiju. Instead, I am sitting in my flight suit and custom leather jacket that all Rangers somehow need to own, trying my damnedest to appear as though I am not melting underneath all my layers. Along with my recent injury, I probably appear very restless, and fidget a lot.

On my right is Evangeline, looking like she was born to live in the spotlight. I know she is just as warm and uncomfortable as I am, but she doesn't show a bit of strain. Her blue eyes are clear and attentive as she watches Colonel Peck speak; her blonde waves are pulled back neatly, lying over her shoulder in a cascading shower of gold. I don't even think I brushed my hair since getting out of the drivesuit. She looks like perfection without even trying, but that has always been the case with her. I gave up on it years ago.

"With that, I am turning over the conference to my Rangers. They will answer any questions to the best of their ability."

I sit up in my chair a little straighter, and run my uninjured arm through my hair. It's the same shade as Evangeline's, though not quite as tame. Some people say we could almost be twins, if I cared a little more about what I look like. I find that hard to believe now. She is barely legal enough to drink, and I'm approaching thirty.

God, that's a terrifying thought.

A hundred voices start up at once and I find myself blinded by the flashes of a dozen cameras. I swear, facing down the Kaiju was easier.

"Miss Gregory!" one reporter shouts above the rest. That is how they refer to Evangeline. Why bother asking me? I never reply with what they want. "What's it like bagging your second Kaiju kill?"

Evangeline gives them this cute, innocent look that I know for a fact she practices in a mirror, before answering. "I can tell you it was a bit more interesting than the last one."

The last, solo, one was in Portland, over a year ago, Codename: Icebreaker. I had never been so scared in my life.

There are a few chuckles in the crowd. No doubt they've all seen the footage of Hammerhead nearly taking us out. It was probably nothing more than a good show to them. When we started winning the war, people forgot about the danger.

"Hammerhead did give us a run for our money," Evangeline continues, glancing my way for a brief moment. "But in the end, it was no match for us. We are the Gregory sisters after all."

I barely resist the urge to roll my eyes.

My sister and I have become a press fascination, borderline obsession, even more so than the other pilots. We are Carolina and Evangeline Gregory, first all-female Ranger team, a feminist's dream and a military PA's nightmare. The fact that we do as well, if not better, than our male counterparts bolsters our status in the celebrity world. It's an unfortunate double standard in my opinion, but Evangeline takes it all in stride. She has been on the covers of countless magazines. The only time they managed to get me to do a shoot with her was under orders. I did not sign up to have my picture taken or to look like a model; I just wanted to help save the world.

"Seems like you didn't come out of it completely unscathed."

I know the reporter is referring to me, but I can't think of anything witty to say; I start to rub my injured arm as it hides under my jacket.

Fortunately for me, Evangeline is there to pick up the slack. This is her area of expertise. "One hit too many to the Kaiju. Sometimes Carol just can't help herself."

More chuckles.

I wish this would end already.

Evangeline answers at least ten more questions, managing to deflect any that are sent my way. I feel the atmosphere in the room starting to wind down. Reporters are running out of questions and Colonel Peck is no doubt running out of patience, especially since the last inquiry was about Evangeline's dating life. They always love to ask her questions like that. She is America's sweetheart, who happens to pilot Jaegers and kill Kaiju in her spare time.

"Would you consider yourselves to be the best the PPDC can offer?"

There is something about the question that catches me. I see Evangeline visibly pause, as though debating what to say herself, but before she can utter a syllable, I speak.

"No, I would not."

The whole room goes silent. Apparently my outbursts are so rare, they require the highest degree of attention. I visibly swallow, nervous, but carry on. The further I go, the more determined I sound, as well as annoyed.

"There are dozens of teams scattered all around the globe, some with just as many if not more kills than Indigo Sun. The Ranger from Australia, Hercules Hansen, has been with the program since the beginning, has logged more time with Jaegers than anyone else, but he is not the best. Marshal Pentecost is the only known person to have driven a Jaeger solo, but he is not the best."

I pause, looking over their faces, some confused, some frustrated, but all staring at me, all invested.

"And that is because the best does not matter. The PPDC is not a sports organization, it is not an entertainment network, and it sure as hell isn't a gossip column in the weekly issue of a magazine. We are a select, some would argue privileged, group of individuals tasked with the burden of defending the world from these creatures that want to destroy it. This isn't a competition. It's a way of life."

With that, I sit back in my chair. No more words from me. I've spoken my piece. Now all I have to do is wait for the media to completely twist the meaning of my statement around. Hope someone decides to write my apology, because I'm not going to.

Evangeline is giving me a look. I know it all too well. It says I went too far.

There are no more questions after that. Colonel Peck practically shoves us out, giving me a look as well, one that says I'll be hearing about this later, before closing up the conference. Strangely, I'm very indifferent about the possibility of getting chewed out. Or perhaps it's not so strange. I do face two hundred foot tall monsters for a living.

My sister puts her arm around me, gently, and leans in close as we're walking away. She is only an inch taller, but from my perspective, it seems like so much more.

"You know, Carol, you don't have to give a speech every time we go out. A sentence or two will do fine. People like simple."

"People like a lot of things I'm not," I reply as we brush past security. The soldiers on guard stand at attention; I ignore them. Evangeline winks. She fancies the short one. "I am not about to play along just because the Colonel has some notion that we owe it to the people. We just saved their lives today. They should already be on our side."

Evangeline sighs as we approach the elevator. She has put up with my stubborn attitude for the past twenty-two years. I really should take it easy on her, but nothing riles me up like the media. If it wasn't for my busted arm or impending meeting with the Marshal, I would be heading straight to the Kwoon Combat Room. Usually I practice until the anger is burned away and my body feels like it can no longer function properly. Sometimes Evangeline joins me, but only if she is just as upset. Instead, I have to stew in it and attempt to bottle it up before I say something really stupid in front of the Marshal.

No pressure.

As we wait for the doors to open, Evangeline takes my jacket from me. It's a strange feeling, interacting after the Drift. Although our minds are no longer connected, it feels like they are, the sense is just a little duller. We've been known to finish each other's sentences, though I have heard that is fairly commonplace. Scientists claim there is no possible way of continued connection without the machine, but the signs are there.

"Give yourself a break, Carol," Evangeline says as the elevator doors open. Only I step in. "You take this all too seriously."

"And you don't take it seriously enough." I punch a number on the console.

She smiles. "That's why I'm you're co-pilot."

Despite fuming still, I can't help but wink at her before the doors close.

* * *

_I stand at attention, stiff as a board, hardly willing to breathe as the man gauges me. Even drill instructors from my initial days of military training did not terrify me as much as him, and they had been far more brutal. There is something about his presence that instantly commands you to obey. When he speaks, you do not question. When he gets angry, you hope to God it's not aimed at you._

"_Do you know why you're here, Gregory?"_

_I swallow. "Because you told me to be here, sir. That was all I needed."_

_His mouth twitches. I convince myself it's the closest thing to a smile he'll ever have. "As if you aren't told this enough by the other instructors, you are one of the best students we have here at the academy. Your aptitude tests, simulator scores, they're all through the roof, and when you Drift with your sister, your bond is nearly unbreakable."_

_There is a 'but' coming. I can feel it. No one ever praises you this much without adding something that holds you back, especially this man. _

"_But your sister is the reason I brought you here."_

_I stifle a sigh; I always knew this day was coming. _

"_Her insubordination has become a problem. I don't doubt her abilities in a Jaeger, but will she even follow orders if given the opportunity to pilot one?"_

_I don't say anything. He hasn't asked for a response. And I don't have an answer._

_He moves to the desk behind him and flips open a file. "There is a Mark III Jaeger being shipped to Los Angeles that is in need of pilots."_

_My heart catches in my throat. He turns back to look at me, and though I try to remain stoic, I know the look of hope is written all over my face._

"_You were immediately recommended to me, but some people think otherwise when it comes to your sister. I've seen you work together. You get the job done, better than most sometimes, but I am going to ask you this: is there another, better candidate you could work with?"_

_And here I stand at a crossroads, torn. On one hand, he is offering me an opportunity few received, giving me an honor that would guarantee my name's place in history. On the other, he is asking me to abandon my sister, the girl who threw her whole life away to join me here. Can I really toss it aside like it means nothing to me? It'd make me no better than our mother. _

_That makes the decision for me._

"_Sir, if you don't want Evangeline, then you won't have me either." He gives me a hard look, one that sends a chill down my spine. "Not to offend your decision, of course, sir, but she is the best compatible candidate for me, and to put me in a Jaeger with another pilot would be a waste, not only for me, but for them as well. You need two pilots who work best together, not two people who you like and hope mesh well…sir."_

_He's silent, but his mouth twitches again. It makes me nervous._

"_Can you get your sister to behave?" He asks after what feels like an eternity._

"_I practically raised her, sir. I can get her to fall in line."_

_He grabs the file and offers it to me. "Then consider this your graduation."_

* * *

There are many stories about Marshal Stacker Pentecost. Most of them you don't believe, they seem far too ridiculous to be true, but when you meet him, you suddenly think it all could have happened. He's the kind of man that makes the impossible come to life.

It has been nearly two years since I last encountered him, since he gave Indigo Sun to us, but the fear comes crawling back immediately. After killing a Kaiju and taking on the media, I suddenly feel so small, and Pentecost is just a man in a suit, no more immortal than I am, but he feels larger than life, like the Jaegers parked just outside the windows.

I had barely made it inside Colonel Peck's office when Pentecost strode back through the door, uttering a simple "follow me." That was all he needed to make me fall silently in line, tailing him until we entered LOCCENT. The room cleared out fast enough, and now we are alone amongst dozens of computers, each spewing out data that only vaguely makes sense to me. He stands at the window, looking away. It only makes me slightly less uncomfortable.

Below us is Scramble Alley. From here I can see Indigo Sun. Repairs have already started on her hull, which looks far worse than I initially thought. Hammerhead's claws and teeth left their mark. It is going to sideline for a while, but the attacks aren't frequent enough to leave me concerned about it. Although they are increasing, a fact that only seems to concern Stokes and me.

Mammoth Apostle is to the left. Hefty, even for a Jaeger, its only weapons are its fists, but they get the job done. It had smashed in the face of a Kaiju down in Panama, leaving the skull nearly unrecognizable. At its feet stand the men responsible for it: Tyler O'Connell and Brandon Murphy, cousins from Florida, whose egos are roughly the size of their Jaeger. Judging by their body language, they haven't gotten over not being invited to the press conference. Maybe next time I'll give them my seat.

Which reminds me…

"Sir, I'd like to apologize for my outburst during the press conference." I know Pentecost is aware of it, whether he personally saw it, heard it from someone, or has been gifted with ESP. He is rarely caught off guard. "I meant no offense. I only-"

"Wanted to prove a point." His interruption silences me. "You like to do that a lot, Captain."

He turns to face me, another file in his hand. It's thicker than the one he gave me in Alaska. He slaps it down on the desk. "And Colonel Peck certainly likes to write about it. Complaints, recommendations, reports on every aspect of your career are in this file. I can't tell if your commanding officer wants to give you a promotion or shoot you."

"To be honest, sir, I can never tell either."

There is that lip twitch again. I feel like I've chased the rabbit and fallen into my memories.

Pentecost crosses in front of the desk and stares me down. "You're very outspoken about the Jaeger program, Captain Gregory. One of the Colonel's favorite complaints about you goes along the lines of 'attempting to inform me on how to do my job.' He continues on a tirade about the chain-of-command and even draws the conclusion that you see yourself as more fit to run the Shatterdome."

I never knew what it felt like to be thrown under the bus. My heart drops and I feel sick. Colonel Peck and I may have our differences from time to time, but I never purposely go out of the way to disrespect him. Outspoken I may be, but if he tells me to shut up, I shut up and if he tells me to drop and give him twenty, I hit the floor in an instant. If there is one thing I learned from my father, it is how to honor rank.

And I am not about to let this conversation continue without Pentecost knowing that.

"In my defense, sir, whenever Colonel Peck and I had our disagreements, I addressed him in a manner befitting an officer of a higher rank. I would never-"

Pentecost raises a hand.

"I am not here to punish you. If Colonel Peck cannot discipline people under his own command, then he does not deserve it. And that is why I am here, because he was correct in one sense." He pauses, walking closer, arms neatly tucked behind his back like they often are when he observes people. "You _are_ more fit to run this Shatterdome, Captain."

I blink once.

Twice.

Did he just…

Three times.

I think he did.

Well, today is certainly a day for surprises.

"I…I'm not sure I follow, sir." My voice is barely a whisper. Is it surprise or have I suddenly realized I'm dreaming?

"I have spoken with the Secretary General on the matter," Pentecost says as he turns away, beginning to pace the room. PPDC Secretary General Dustin Krieger. I met the man once, briefly. He seemed like a good man, but heavily burdened. With one hand he is expected to hold the Kaiju at bay while using the other to deal with the politicians. Rumor has it the man before me is slated to take his place. "And he agrees that commanders lead from experience, and for a Shatterdome to operate at full efficiency, its commander must have a working knowledge of both the Kaiju and the Jaegers."

An image of Colonel Peck attempting to drive a Jaeger flickers briefly in my mind. It is entertaining, to say the least.

"It is not enough to know terminology or to witness these events," Pentecost continues. "To pilot a Jaeger, to experience the Drift, is to have knowledge few hope to gain, to obtain an insight few others can possibly understand. Both you and I know this very well. We have seen the impossible, and we have defeated it."

I nod, not knowing what else to say. My mind is still trying to process it all.

"I have already organized the transfer of authority to experienced Jaeger pilots at five other Shatterdomes. Sydney was my last stop, and within the week leadership will be given over to Sergeant Herc Hansen, whom I believe you mentioned earlier at the press conference."

"I've never met Sergeant Hansen, sir," I reply, feeling slightly embarrassed. "But I have heard enough about him. Everyone has."

"I had the privilege of working with him during the early years of the program. He's one of the best," Pentecost admits. "Despite your aversion to calling it a competition, you must admit, Captain, that some individuals are better suited than others."

Again, I don't know what to say; again, I nod.

"Unlike your fellow Rangers here, you have maintained your military bearing and discipline, not accounting for your occasional bouts of what some might call defensive backtalk." He looks for a reaction. I give him none. That seems to satisfy something in him. "The Jaeger program has been dragged through the mud by the extracurricular actions of your fellow Rangers and by the Colonel's inability to keep them in line. I need someone to fix that, to maintain it, and to lead with the experience only another Ranger can offer."

I suddenly feel faint as he approaches me again.

"So, Captain Gregory, I am asking you: are you satisfied following for the rest of your life, or do you want to lead?"

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed this update! Maybe one of these days I'll stop posting at two in the morning (Hello from America!). **


	4. Moving Forward

I am so so sorry for the delay in updates! The month of August has been pretty crazy for me. In case you didn't know, I am in the National Guard, which means every summer I have to go train for two weeks. That gave me little time to focus on the story and also very little internet. Then I was on vacation and now school started! But that's enough excuses. I am back!

This chapter was a bit (and by a bit, I mean VERY) tricky, but I finally pulled through and finished it. I think the next chapters will go much more smoothly. And hey, it's an extra long chapter. Yay!

* * *

**Pan-Pacific Defense Corps  
****Personnel Dossier**

**Name **Carolina Gregory  
**Assigned Team **Rangers, ID R-CGRE_743.68-T  
**Date of Active Service **August 15, 2016  
**Current Service Status **Active, based Los Angeles Shatterdome

**Biography**

Born March 26, 1990, Stuttgart, Germany. Parents Michael and Julia. Younger sister Evangeline. Former UH-60 pilot in the United States Army (MOS 153D). Unit was deployed to combat Trespasser on K-Day. Received meritorious citations for going above and beyond the call of duty during the battle. Transferred to PPDC in 2016. Top of class student at Jaeger Academy. Held record for highest simulation percentage with E. Gregory (later broken by R. Becket and Y. Becket, May 25, 2017).

Pilots Mark-III Jaeger (Indigo Sun) with sister. Credited with 4 kills (2 unassisted), all with E. Gregory as co-pilot (q.v. Jaeger dossier for further details). Is a potential candidate for leadership at the Los Angeles Shatterdome. Recommendation for higher echelon position upon retirement from the program.

**Notes**

Concerns have been raised regarding Gregory's irritated, and occasionally hostile, attitude toward the press. It has been advised actions be taken before her performances damage publicity for the PPDC.

PPDC psychology evaluations reveal Gregory suffers from mild PTSD symptoms, most likely triggered by K-Day events, although some suggestions have hinted at Gregory's previous deployment to Afghanistan in 2012. Gregory has shown no signs of issues in the Drift, but will continue to be monitored closely.

* * *

**Chapter Four  
Moving Forward**

Most rooms in the Shatterdome are simple and bare. Mine is no exception. There's a bed, a wardrobe and a desk with a lamp and chair. It's slightly smaller than your average dorm room, and much cleaner. Aside from the small pile of clothes I quickly discarded this morning when the alarm was raised, not a single item is out of place.

The only sign of personality comes in the form of two pictures sitting on my desk. One is graduation. Evangeline is wearing my cap, her bright smile revealing a mouth full of metal. Mom is behind the camera, and Dad…well, he got the invite. The other is of my crew during our deployment to Afghanistan. My co-pilot and our two crew chiefs, all males, have me hoisted above their heads. We're all smiles as we pose in front of the helo. What we never mention is that after the shot, they lost their grip and dropped me onto the tarmac.

Second Battalion, Third Aviation Regiment. We call ourselves the Knighthawks, which is either badass or corny depending on your mood. They are the first family I ever had outside of blood relatives, the only people beside Evangeline I found myself able to get close to. It only occurs to me now how long it has been since I've spoken to any of them. Maybe I should try to reach out and reconnect, or at least find out if they're still alive.

Especially Tim.

I land on the bed with a loud thump, face buried in my pillow and limbs sprawled in various directions. My arm probably doesn't appreciate the action, but seeing as how I still can't feel anything from the shoulder down, I really don't care. I have bigger things on my plate other than my physical well-being.

Like the fact I have three days to make a decision about Pentecost's offer.

Three days.

I don't think that's enough time for me to even start believing it's not a dream.

Then again, I should probably be thankful. Pentecost strikes me as the sort of man who demands immediate answers, like any amount of pause is somehow an insult to him, but he gave me leave to think, though the look on his face suggested that I not take the entire time to come to a conclusion. This is war, after all, even if most days don't resemble it.

I'm just not sure I_ can_ give him a straight answer.

On one hand, I am an experienced Ranger with a military background and, I like to hope, enough intelligence to know a thing or two about command. But on the other, I am young. At twenty-eight years old, I can hardly see myself running a company of soldiers, much less an entire Shatterdome, which gainfully employs hundreds of workers, nearing one thousand on the busiest of days. Sure, I am an officer, but I am only a pilot. Even before the Kaiju War, I never commanded anyone. Us helicopter pilots like to group together somewhere else on base and do our own thing. I don't know if I can be trusted with something as crucial as this.

I don't know if I can handle the possibility of failure.

Sighing, I roll onto my back and stare at the dark ceiling. Now is not the time to be thinking about this. It has been a long day by anyone's standards and right now my body is in desperate need of sleep. No point in making a decision when you're not in the best condition. My eyelids are already heavy, and it doesn't take long for my consciousness to start drifting…

"There you are, Carol!"

Goddamn it.

The lights flicker on, but I refuse to move. Maybe if I'm lucky, she'll notice the state I'm in and leave.

I feel the mattress dip under her weight.

I'm never lucky.

"I was about to start searching for a body. What happened?"

My eyelid cracks open and I spy Evangeline hovering over my near-broken frame. She looks worried, and by worried I mean she looks ready to kill someone. If there is one person she dislikes more than Colonel Peck, it's Marshal Pentecost, although it is all her fault to begin with. Not that I would say that out loud. No, she gets to hear it in the Drift just like every other secret I own.

"Well…I'm not fired."

She frowns. It doesn't look right on her. "That's not funny, Carol."

"Good thing I'm not laughing then." I flip over again and bury my head under the pillow. The darkness feels nice. "Can't this wait til morning? Or never maybe? Never sounds nice."

"Try to take this seriously, Sis."

There is something very wrong about my little sister telling me to take something seriously. It really has been a long day.

I sigh and sit up in bed, giving my sister a look. "It's not about you, if that's what you're asking."

"It's not. Everyone knows if Pentecost has a problem with you, he doesn't use a middle man. Now tell me what's going on. You look terrible."

"Have you ever considered that I just fought a Kaiju, dealt with the press AND talked to the Marshal? That's enough to do anyone in," I say as I stand and walk toward my wardrobe. Evangeline won't believe a word of it. She wouldn't be my sister if she did. Even without the lingering effects of the Drift, it is obvious to either of us when the other is in distress. Hell, Colonel Peck would even notice something wrong with me and he's oblivious to anything not fed to him through a memorandum. I just want to put off discussing this as long as possible. It's the kind of subject that very few people should know about, and Evangeline likes to gossip, a lot. I know I should be able to trust her with this, she will tell me as much, but something is holding me back.

"I did the exact same thing, well, minus Pentecost, but I had to deal with Peck afterwards and his usual speech on maintaining military discipline during press conferences." Evangeline mocks the Colonel's voice. I have to admit, it actually sounds pretty good.

"I'm older than you, Evie."

She scoffs. "Yeah, by like six years.

It might as well be six centuries.

I look at the wardrobe's mirror and study my image reflected in it. I look my age, still young but with noticeable maturity, and am probably in the best shape someone my age could hope to be. Aside from the bandages running up and down my arm, I am physically ready for any challenge the PPDC feels like throwing at me. But mentally, emotionally, I feel like a wreck, stretched much further than any human is meant to go. My blue eyes used to be bright, I'm sure of it, but after seeing things all these years and then being forced to relive them again and again through the Drift, it starts to take a toll on you. Psychologists warn us about this, that there should be a limited number of times a Ranger connects, but during war, what can we do? No one wants to take the chance of green pilots destroying a multi-million dollar machine, not when there are veterans like me ready to take up the reins.

Evangeline's reflection is staring at me. Now it's a different kind of worried, the one that says I've been quiet too long.

"He offered me a job," I start, stripping off the top half of my flight suit. Back to business now. No time to worry about myself. No one has time for that. "The Marshal wants me to run the Shatterdome."

Evangeline snorts, her lips curving upward. She doesn't believe it any more than I do. Still, it hurts having that reaction from her. I may not have confidence in myself, but I was hoping someone would.

My silence melts her smile. "Oh wow, you're serious."

"I wouldn't joke about this, Evie. You know better than that."

She stands up and walks behind me. Her reflection is so different with a leaner, more model-like body than mine. My sister is in perfect shape, and eats like a teenage boy (though she'd never admit it), but still looks slightly starved. Her teammates in cheerleading were always jealous of that. So was I, to an extent. She was the girl who had to beat off suitors while I was the tomboy who hung out with them and pretended not to be hurt when none of them ever asked me out. I was the friend, not the girlfriend. But it doesn't matter now. I don't have the time for it.

"So, did you take it?" she asks, peering over my shoulder; she watches as I pick at the bandages on my arm.

"I told the Marshal I would think about it."

Her brows furrow and the frown deepens. "What's there to think about? You're always complaining about Peck."

"Pretty sure that's what you do, Evie."

"I was in your head earlier. Do I need to start listing things off?" I say nothing. She knows she's right. "Look, now's your opportunity to change things!"

"It's a little more complicated than that." I turn away toward my bed, suddenly feeling the urge to break something. "When I said I wanted change, I didn't mean that I wanted to be the one in charge of it. Maybe a better officer from the military or the Marshal himself, not me. I'm not the kind of person you want leading these people."

"No, _I'm _not the kind of person who should be leading people," Evangeline replies, hands on hips. "Carol, you've always been a leader, and a damn good one too. You might not see your potential, but I do, and so does Pentecost. Even Dad saw it. You're the only reason we saw him as much as we did. General Gregory loves his goddamn legacy."

She doesn't mean it as an insult, but the words sting nonetheless. It was bad enough our mother drank and cursed and outright neglected us, but our father pretty much left too. Whenever he did visit, I tried to get him to interact with Evangeline as much as I could, but it was clear there was only one daughter he had interest in. He comes from a line of successful, high ranking officers dating back to when we were throwing English tea into the sea, and I was the only one he saw who had the potential to continue that tradition. Funny thing is, when Evangeline got accepted into the program, Dad actually did try to make amends. She slapped him in public while he stood there in uniform.

It's one of my favorite memories.

"You planning on going somewhere?" I ask, hoping to change the subject. Clearly neither of us wants to be on it anymore.

Evangeline's mood changes in an instant. I wish I could do that. She gets all bubbly and starts looking over her very sparkly clubbing dress. Well, I'm not sure if dress is the right word. To me, a dress usually covers up some part of the thighs. It just looks like she threw on a shirt and decided bottoms were optional. I guess that's what kids are into these days.

Oh geez, now I'm starting to sound like my grandfather.

My sister does a little twirl. "In celebration of our victory today, Brandon and Tyler are treating me to a night on the town. I say me because I honestly can't remember the last time you agreed to do anything fun in your life."

"What's more fun than being a Ranger?" I ask with a false enthusiasm that would make all the recruiters swoon.

"My point exactly," she replies with an eye roll, heading to the door. Our previous conversation is all but forgotten. For us, it's better that way. "Try not to die of boredom."

"Hey!" I call out. She stops midway through the threshold and turns back. "Be careful out there, Evie. You know how those two like to get. And I know how_ you_ like to get. Let's try to keep a low profile with the Marshal in town, okay?"

She beams at me. "Piece of cake."

And then she's gone.

* * *

I feel like I have just fallen asleep, but the clock on the deployment monitor says I've had about four hours.

Squinting, I can just barely make out Stokes' face on the screen being projected beside my bed. Unlike earlier, everything else on the monitor is blank. This kind of communication is only used for movement in the Breach and absolute emergencies. It doesn't manage to motivate me though.

"Unless there is a Kaiju rampaging through downtown Los Angeles, it can wait til morning." My face plops back into the pillow in protest. I know it won't work, but I like to pretend for a few moments that I actually have choices in life still.

"There's been an incident."

I'm out of bed before my mind can fully comprehend what he just said.

* * *

I learned quickly that while darkness falls, it's never really night in Los Angeles. The city is always bustling with activity. Night owls find their haven here. It never made much sense to me, Army bases get pretty quiet when Retreat sounds in the evening, but I grew used to it, like I do with pretty much everything. I guess you could say adaptation is one of my strong suits.

Stokes is driving the car. This is his hometown and he knows the streets far better than I do. His parents own a little place in Jefferson Park, a cultural gift shop that celebrates his grandfather's home country of Sierra Leone. His jaw is set tight and his knuckles are threatening to burst out of the skin. This seriousness is a rare side of him.

I hate it.

"Is my sister involved?"

He shakes his head. "Report just mentions O'Connell and Murphy."

At least I've got that much going for me.

Under normal circumstances, Colonel Peck would be handling any and all incidents involving the Rangers under his command. Stokes tells me he was about to call him too, but Pentecost stepped in. He personally requested that I handle this. I haven't even made a decision and the man is already giving me control of the place. The Colonel is not going to be a happy man come dawn.

Something tells me I won't be either.

After another twenty minutes of thick silence, we finally pull up to a small club on the outskirts of the city. It's a neon blue building that I feel like I've seen before, but these places have always been interchangeable to me. There are at least six police cars from what I can see, each with their lights still on, red and blue bouncing off the walls of nearby businesses and streets. Several individuals are sitting on the curbs, handcuffed, and surrounded by officers. Two others are leaning against the building, chatting with each other without a care in the world, despite being cuffed as well. Looks like I found O'Connell and Murphy.

I exit the vehicle and walk towards the first officer who notices me, placing my cap on my head. For a situation like this, I need to look in charge so I'm in my dress blues, decorated with badges, ribbons and stripes. My hair is in a neat bun, my shoes are shined and my bearing is one hundred percent military. Even my arm is no longer in a sling, though I feel a pain starting to pulse beneath my skin. I've always felt uncomfortable in this sort of outfit, even back in the Army. It's too formal, too clean, too alienating. I feel helpless in it, unable to fight and unable to say anything that might make the uniform look bad. I don't know how Pentecost does it.

"We were expecting the Colonel," the officer states, falling in step beside me. He's an older man and judging by his ease in the situation, he must have done this before. It's not hard to believe. Rangers around here start more fights with people than Kaiju.

"He left town earlier this evening," I state flatly. "As the highest ranking active Ranger, I double as his second-in-command. Can you tell me what happened? The story I got was a bit vague."

The officer nods, not questioning a word. The guys at the Officer's Club always did say I had a great poker face. "Well, ma'am, no offense to your Rangers but the boys and I like to call this 'the usual.' These fellas get hammered, what with the free drinks people are always buying them, then another drunk moron likes to question their manhood and they respond in kind with fists and feet. 'Cept this time it got a little more out of hand. Someone, we can't tell who, smashed a bottle on some poor bastard's head, knocked him clean to the floor, but not before he hit the bar counter on the way down."

"Is he going to be alright?"

"He's dead."

I stop in my tracks, maybe ten feet from the Rangers. "Dead?"

The officer must see the wide-eyed look on my face because for a moment, he actually looks concerned. "Now, ma'am, we have no way of knowing if it was your guys. For all we know, they were just witnesses."

My eyes fall on them. "Even though they started it."

"Even though they started it, yes," he admits. "Procedure dictates we bring them in for questioning and whatnot, but my boys know the drill, so you can take it from here, ma'am."

"Drill?" I ask, tilting my head. "What drill?"

"_The_ drill," he says, giving me a funny look. "You know, the Colonel comes by, gives us the spiel about how Rangers are top clearance, highly important individuals defending our lives and how we shouldn't interfere, then whisks them away back to the Shatterdome."

He pauses, giving me a onceover before continuing. "I get it, I really do. You guys go out there and fight the monsters with your giant robots. I was in San Francisco when it all started. I've seen what those things can do, but Jesus Christ, if we start cutting you guys breaks, when is it gonna end? It's bad enough we gotta deal with movie stars and their entourages but you Rangers are supposed to be saving us, not the opposite. What's the point of defending us if you're not helping to make it any better during your off hours?"

I let his rant soak in, understanding his frustrations completely. The Colonel had been letting things slide, that much I knew, but I never realized the extent of it. Before I thought they were just small acts by an unprofessional officer, but this is downright unforgivable. Pentecost must not know or the Shatterdome would have had a new commander ages ago.

"I apologize for the outburst, ma'am," the officer says, breaking me from my thoughts. He looks sheepish. "If you want to take these guys now, I'll uncuff them."

The word comes out before I can stop it. "No."

Now the officer stops, confused. "Ma'am?"

I pause, taking a moment to think things over, but the right answer is easy for me. It's what should have happened long before this night. "I'll talk to my Rangers, but they'll remain handcuffed, and when I'm finished, you can take them, question them, even detain them for as long as legally possible. If you have anything to charge them with, by all means take the reins. As far as I'm concerned, the PPDC is done with them."

It takes a second for the gravity of what I've just said to sink in, but as soon as it does, a grin breaks out on the officer's face. "Yes, Ma'am."

Taking a deep breath, I walk over to the Rangers. They've fallen onto the sidewalk now, occasionally breaking into giggles in their drunken state. Even from here, I can smell the stench of alcohol on their breath. My lip twitches.

Murphy is the first to notice me, his green eyes clouded over. "Damn, I must be drunker than I thought. Colonel's starting to look like a lady."

O'Connell just laughs.

I frown. "Get up."

Murphy's eyes go wide. "Oh shit, Colonel is a lady!"

"Damn, is that you, Cap?" O'Connell asks, squinting. "Why they got you out here? Where's Peck?"

"I SAID GET UP!"

The sudden, unfiltered anger in my voice puts the fear of God into them. They both stand so quickly, they nearly fall over again, bumping into one another all the way up. I'm channeling every commanding officer I've ever known, including the Marshal, remembering how they disciplined me and others. The rage in my body is overwhelming. It gives me a newfound respect for them and their ability to maintain control. I can't just let it all loose, as much as I want to, as much as it would please me to let them know every single godforsaken word that comes to mind when I think about them. If I lose it all here, I'm no more deserving of this burden than the Colonel.

I stare them down, the two redheads that always made the girls swoon. I remember them from Kodiak. They were no better back then than they are now. Arrogant and reckless, but they were good at the job and the PPDC was desperate.

That changes now.

"Do you have ANY idea what you have done?" I keep my voice low, practically a hiss. I've attracted an audience.

"The man was askin' for it." Murphy sniffs, his gaze fixes on his feet.

"He started questioning us. Us!" O'Connell continues, growing angry. "Like he has no idea who we are."

"Who are you, exactly?" I ask. "And I better not hear you say Rangers, because you are not, not after tonight."

Murphy chuckles. It's a nervous sound. "The hell you talking about, Cap? It was just a fight."

"Just a fight? A man is dead!"

Both men sober instantly, looking at me with eyes full of dread. It's obvious they didn't know and most likely didn't directly contribute to the man's death, but the thought that if they had not been here tonight, if they had kept it together, the man might still be alive is enough to keep the fires stoked. There is no mercy in me.

"The two of you, and others like you, have been taking advantage of this system long enough. Being a Ranger doesn't make you immune, it doesn't put you above the law. You are supposed to be the best of the best, and that includes when you're not in a Jaeger. It's bad enough that you were allowed to continue like this to the point where the police are used to it, but now a man isn't going home tonight. He's going to the coroner in a body bag, a man that you promised to protect when you took the oath to be a Ranger." I pause, letting it sink in. "His blood is on your hands. It's on the Colonel's…and it is on mine. I should have said something sooner…and now we all have to live with the consequences."

I nod to the officers nearby. They grab hold of the cousins and prepare to lead them to the vehicles. The boys still have enough nerve to look betrayed. "Even if you're found not guilty of whatever charges they have waiting for you, consider yourselves dismissed from the PPDC."

"You can't do that!" O'Connell shouts, struggling against the officer's hold. "You're not even in command here!"

And there it is, the decision. Yes or no. Forward or back.

I catch her moving out of the corner of my eye. Evangeline is standing in the doorway of the club, a mound of curious eyes piled up behind her. I know she could have just as easily been involved in this. She is no better than the cousins at times, drinking and dancing her problems away until she gets booted or passes out. Deep down, I know it's my fault. I protected her and at the same time created the individual in front of me, and if I don't act now, I'll lose her again.

I take a breath. "Yes, I am."

The cousins freeze along with the officers holding them. All eyes feel like they are on me and time slows. It may just be me overreacting, or maybe this is how the world watches when a god comes to power.

"Colonel Peck has failed to do his duty properly. Marshal Pentecost informed me as much, and offered the Shatterdome to me, which I have accepted. As of today, I AM your commanding officer and I can guarantee the Marshal will be more than happy to endorse my recommendation for your removal from the program."

They are silent. There are no more words to be said.

I watch them until they are both safely tucked into separate patrol cars, then turn my gaze to the crowds that have gathered. Some look upset, some shocked, but many have a curiously approving look on their faces, especially the multitude of uniforms that have recently arrived. I think I hear someone applauding, but I'll blame that on the lack of sleep. Even Stokes is out of the car now. He nods and smiles. I barely dip my head at him, suddenly feeling the weight of everything I have just done.

I publicly denounced Colonel Peck.

I fired two of the best Jaeger pilots to come out of the program.

I just took sole command of the Los Angeles Shatterdome.

It's enough to make me sick.

Evangeline approaches me, arms hugging her body though the air is far from cold. For a while, she just stares, and I do the same, so caught off guard by everything that has just happened.

"Dad would be proud," she whispers.

I wish I knew what she means by it.

* * *

Not gonna lie, this isn't my favorite piece, but I really hope you guys liked it. I may just be too hard on myself. Also, sorry for not replying to reviews. I got you covered this time round! Have a nice day!


	5. Desperation

You know, I had really hoped it would have gone faster this time. :/ Well, life has a way of complicating things, I'm sure we are all aware of that. School and my new job have left me with little time to do even homework, much less writing, but I've finally managed to crank this one out. That's probably due to the fact that since the US government is shutdown, my military job is on hiatus. Good news? Bad news? Not sure yet.

And thank you so much for sticking around guys! It means a lot to me!

Also, quick note. Although it's been said that Herc's Lucky Seven Jaeger was still operational at this time, I'm not including it. Too much contradiction. I like to keep it simple.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Five  
****Desperation**

"…_today's breaking news. Following the recent loss of their Mark-IV Jaeger to a Kaiju off the coast of South Korea, Japanese Prime Minster Yamamoto Hisato has declared a split from the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps…"_

"…_we learned earlier today that Japan is taking an isolationist stance in the Kaiju War. If the land does not fall under Japanese jurisdiction, don't expect their Jaegers to show up…"_

"…_seen how much it costs to build a Jaeger? Australia's Striker Eureka damn near bankrupted the whole country! It's hard enough seeing one go down, but knowing it was for another country, leaving the people who paid for that Jaeger defenseless, it's a travesty and frankly I don't blame the Japanese government…"_

"…_more turmoil for the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps as other countries consider reserving Jaegers for their coastlines only…"_

"…_skirmishes have broken out on the borders of Peru as other Pacific nations in South America panic over the possibility of being alone in the Kaiju War…"_

"…_as of tonight, China has closed its doors to other nations, following in the footsteps of Japan…"_

"…_an emergency UN summit has been called in an attempt to negotiate with the Shatterdome and Jaeger owning nations and to find a solution for the dozens of countries now left without defense…"_

* * *

**December 2****nd****, 2019**

**Los Angeles Shatterdome**

Things are not looking good, but that has been normal as of late.

LOCCENT is empty save for Stokes and me. Our eyes are fixed on the large screen at the head of the room, watching the United Nations members argue back and forth via satellite. The image cuts out often and the words jumble, but what we get is more than enough to deliver a clear message: we're alone and there's no chance of help coming any time soon.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Shut it off, Harry."

The room goes dark and quiet. Stokes sighs. "Tokyo and Hong Kong, with Vladivostok and Lima soon to follow…the deployment radiuses alone…we can't defend the Pacific with three Shatterdomes."

He's pointing out the obvious, but I don't say anything about it. There are too many thoughts swirling in my head, ideas, most of them bad, the rest impossible, and a million scenarios of how this could all turn out. None of the images are pretty and leave a sinking feeling in the pit of my gut. I can't even imagine what Pentecost is doing. I'm just glad I'm not Tendo Choi right now.

"How much longer before we hop on the bandwagon?" Stokes turns his chair to face me.

I lean against a desk, wondering myself. "Our moral compass is keeping the program alive so far but…if any more Jaegers go down, we might as well consider it dead in the water."

Stokes nods, his expression grave. The number of days that pass by without his witty attitude is starting to grow. It almost makes me wish Colonel Peck was back. At least then, things weren't spiraling out of control, more than usual that is.

It has been almost two years since I took command of the Shatterdome. Colonel Peck had taken his admonishment and demotion well, better than most people could, certainly better than me. As new commander, I was present during the process. It took every ounce of my military training and a silent prayer to keep my discomfort from showing. I can only guess at what motivated him. No one knew what happened to him since. There had been rumors, but I don't want to believe them.

A lot has changed since I took over, and I want to hope that it's all for the best. My first move was to crack down on the Rangers. After what O'Connell and Murphy pulled, I needed to make it clear that behavior of that sort was to no longer be tolerated. For the first few weeks, Rangers were restricted to the Shatterdome and other key facilities, mimicking a basic training environment. I caught quite a bit of flack, but it didn't faze me. I was never out to make friends. Evangeline was the one I was most worried about, but she took it all without complaint. I wasn't sure whether to be proud or concerned.

Eventually, I loosened up, giving small liberties every so often. Things are fairly relaxed now, not nearly as much as when under the Colonel's command, but everyone is able to breathe easy, including the very grateful police force.

From the moment I wake up until I shut my eyes again, there is constant work occupying me. Overseeing maintenance on the Jaegers, updating key LOCCENT programs, keeping my Rangers fit and the media at bay, each one by itself is enough to make a person go crazy, and somehow I have to juggle it all. Most of the time it feels like I am one step from falling over and ruining everything, but at the end of the day, the Shatterdome is still intact and I am still sane, though the Kwoon Combat Room sees me far more often these days. Sometimes I feel it is the only thing keeping me sane.

A soft beeping noise knocks me from my reverie. I see a small, red light blinking on Stokes' console. Guess that means the UN Summit has come to a close.

"The Marshal is not going to be happy," Stokes mumbles.

That's an understatement.

"Set it up."

I clap him on the shoulder, moving toward the center of the room, the best visible point for a video conference. My hands move of their own accord, straightening up the ribbons, rank, name plates, anything on my uniform that can be messed up, which is essentially everything. Most days I wear casual attire. A uniform is hardly useful in a Shatterdome environment, though Pentecost seems to disagree. He must think it would lower his authority, though no one else does.

My hands graze over the new ranks on my shoulders. The Army, and to an extent the PPDC, wanted to capitalize on my momentous, if controversial, promotion to Shatterdome commander. It officially made me the highest ranking American Ranger, and a woman no less. I was promoted to Major as well during a lavish ceremony involving several politicians, high ranking military personnel, and even a couple celebrities. The public affairs officers practically squealed in delight. The only thing that made it somewhat bearable was the Marshal's clearly frustrated presence. He never is one for publicity either.

It still manages to entertain me that I'm even promoted anymore. My rank is Ranger. Though, technically the Marshal's is too, but no one dares say it.

"Once we go live, head downstairs and take a break, Harry," I pause, looking over at him. He looks beat. Can't imagine what I look like. Don't really look in mirrors anymore. "Actually, head home. Get a good night's rest. Something tells you won't get another one any time soon."

Stokes looks ready to stay put. "You sure about that?"

I shrug. "Nothing gets done overnight. Besides, if I keep you around here any longer, that new bride of yours might get suspicious."

"Maybe if it was anyone else, but everyone knows you appall romance."

My hat makes a beeline for his head, but he manages to dodge it, cracking up as he does so.

"Just start the conference and get out of here, ass."

"Yes, ma'am," Stokes chokes out between chuckles. At least I've got him laughing again, though at my expense. It's true, I haven't been in a relationship since the war broke out. Never really have time for them anymore, not that they ever worked out for me in the first place. I guess life is just easier this way.

The screen lights up as I come to attention. I wonder how many will actually connect. The answer comes to me quickly as only two images appear. On the right half of the screen is Marshal Pentecost, commander of the Anchorage Shatterdome, and on the left is Hercules Hansen, commander of Sydney. In the past, I would have found the prospect of conferring with these two, the most famous and experienced of Rangers in the PPDC, daunting, but these days I don't have time for something as trivial as nerves. There's too much at stake to be star struck.

"I was hoping there'd be more of us," Herc starts, his accent doing little to hide the disappointment. I look his image over quickly. He's in his dress blues as well, looking as uncomfortable as I feel. He owns more ribbons, but unofficially I outrank him. It surprises me that he's still considered a Sergeant.

"Vladivostok is still in the fight," Pentecost begins. I don't even bother trying to gauge him. The man is a statue. "Sasha Kaidonovsky isn't a fan of hiding, but she's got her hands tied by the Russian government. Their participation is a desperate, last resort. Lima hasn't responded. Don't expect anything from that sector."

It's slightly better than what I was expected, but that doesn't ease the twisted knot in my stomach.

Herc shakes his head. "That leaves us with three Shatterdomes, nine Jaegers. Seven if you factor out Echo Saber and Vulcan Spector. Last Kaiju attack took their toll. We managed to save'em, but those machines won't be running for weeks."

"Five Jaegers," I say, eyes to the floor. "Canada is keeping theirs. And Sol Rojo is sticking to the Mexican border, maybe California since we are housing them here, but I wouldn't be surprised if they relocate in the near future."

"The entire goddamn Pacific in the hands of five Jaegers. What the hell are we supposed to do with that?"

"We adapt," Pentecost states, voice thick with authority. "Major, I want you to convince Mexico that it is in their best interest to continue guarding our borders as well as their own. Push for other parts of Latin America if you can. I will do the same with Canada."

I nod, eyes narrowing. What is he planning?

"And what about Sydney?"

A wave of sympathy hits me as I look at Herc. The Eastern Pacific borders are guarded well enough, even during this difficult time, but with two of his Jaegers out of commission, things must be looking very lonely on his side of the world. Striker Eureka may be the best Jaeger humanity can offer, but it can only do so much on its own. No doubt the Australian government is taking that into consideration at this very moment.

"I will be dispatching two Jaegers to your location until yours are back in working order, for even longer if need be. You have a lot of territory to cover, Herc, and we're not leaving anyone alone."

The Marshal's words seem to put him at ease, if only slightly. There's only so much relaxation you can get when the world is ending.

I ponder his words. "What two Jaegers, sir?"

"From here in Anchorage, Gipsy Danger."

It's hard to miss the grimace on Herc's face. He and Pentecost are gruff, no bullshit soldiers, the exact opposite of the Becket brothers. I'm not their biggest fan either. They're reckless, cocky and disobedient, but they are good. I'd venture to say great if it wouldn't go to their heads.

"And from Los Angeles, I'm assigning Indigo Sun."

I blink several times, only then realizing he has said my Jaeger's name. "Indigo Sun? Are you serious, sir?"

It's a dumb question and the look on his face says just that. "Sol Rojo is clearly going nowhere and because of its size, Mammoth Apostle is a logistical nightmare when it comes to transportation. Indigo Sun and Gipsy Danger are the lightest, most experienced Jaegers, which will be an advantage in new territory."

"Sir, what about the Shatterdome?"

"I will take temporary command of Los Angeles until this crisis is concluded and Indigo Sun can return." There must be a look on my face, because he adds, "Don't consider this a demotion, Major. Just a change of duty station, unless you'd rather I assign two new pilots to your Jaeger."

"With all due respect, sir, I'd rather be shot."

I catch Herc smirking out of the corner of my eye. Pentecost looks satisfied.

"Good. I want to transport these Jaegers as soon as possible. Coordinate with your teams, work through the night if you have to. We're not losing the war over this bureaucratic nightmare."

Pentecost's screen cuts to black.

I allow myself to sink my face into one of my hands with a sigh. "Never stop sacrificing."

It's my dad's voice that I hear, and I hate it.

Thankfully Herc says nothing, not until I look him in the eye again to show that I'm ready.

"You and your sister do good work," He says, nodding to me. Subtle reassurance. Just the way I like it. "Looking forward to having Indigo Sun on the roster."

"Looking forward to being on it," I say truthfully, though the frustration in my voice says the opposite. "Could use the change of scenery."

"And the break from command doesn't hurt either, I'm guessing."

The corner of my mouth curves upward. "I'll see you in Sydney, Sergeant."

He nods again. "Major."

The room goes black.

I truly am excited to get out of Los Angeles, although the circumstances could be better. It'll practically be a vacation, the first I've had in years, and if there are any Kaiju, Indigo Sun might get to see some action again. Our Jaeger has basically been sidelined since my promotion. Evangeline doesn't appreciate it, and neither do I. Sort of ironic that I consider a life threatening fight as part of my vacation, but the adrenaline, the rush that comes from those fights is something you can't come across anywhere else. It's the only time I feel alive. Everything else is just waiting.

I fumble for my phone in the dark and type a few digits.

"Mexican Consulate…This is Major Carolina Gregory from the Los Angeles Shatterdome. I need to speak with the consul-general."

It is going to be a long night.

* * *

**17 days later…**

The first time you enter a Shatterdome is something you never forget.

The sheer size is what hits you first. It is so massive, your imagination can't even begin to comprehend it, your mind brushes it off as a trick of the eye, because it just doesn't seem possible. Now, Shatterdomes aren't the tallest buildings you will ever see, not by a long shot, but most buildings don't give you a straight view from the floor to the ceiling, especially over the distance covered in Scramble Alley. It is a massive dome, housing equally massive creatures, and hundreds of workers bustling to and fro, looking no larger than ants. You feel insignificant next to it all, but it leaves a smile on your face, like a child exploring the world for the first time.

Sydney leaves me that way all over again.

I feel my lips curving upward as I lean against a wall near the entrance, casually observing the chaos without getting in the way. Nursing a large cup of black coffee and dressed in nothing more than a sweatshirt and jogging pants, I suppose I stick out like a sore thumb, but no one seems to pay me any mind. That works for me. A little anonymity is a welcome change of pace.

"When you told me this was going to be a vacation, I didn't think you meant literally."

Herc is a fairly formidable man, standing a good six inches taller than me. A lot of people respect him. He's tough, as stereotypical as an Australian can get if you ask me, and experienced, being prior military like myself and the Marshal. He is also at least five years older than every other active Ranger out there, ten years older than me, and I'm sure it is something he actively avoids thinking about, which means it probably bothers him at least three times a day. It shouldn't though. People half his age can't do what he does.

I'm still not quite sure what to think of my Australian counterpart. Hercules Hansen is the kind of man who looks one word away from punching you, and that makes him awfully hard to gauge. Sure, it's easy to tell when he's disappointed or angry, that he'll have no problem showing you, but I can never tell if he's happy or even content. Maybe he just never is. I like to hope that isn't true but after glossing over his dossier, I can't blame him if he went down that path. The Kaiju War has taken a toll on him, and then some.

"You're lucky I'm even conscious," I reply, taking a swig of my coffee. It's painfully bitter. "Besides, I hardly think khakis and a t-shirt is a more qualified outfit."

He looks himself over and nods. "Fair point. What about your sister?"

"She's comatose." Or at least she had been prior to me pounding on her mattress and screaming bloody murder in her ears. I got a face full of pillow for that. It's the kind of thing that's hard to resist when you're forced to share a room with your little sister again. "Don't expect to see that one for another four hours or so."

I take another gulp. Damn jetlag.

We fall into silence. I take it he's not much for conversation when it's not on official business, which is fine by me. I'm too tired to care either way.

"You seen Striker yet?" He asks out of the blue.

Come to think of it…

"No, no I haven't." I shake my head and look at him. "Care to show me the monster?"

He navigates the chaos of Scramble Alley with an ease that only comes from experience. Day in and day out, there are multiple collisions of people and equipment to be had. Most of the time there isn't any damage, and only a handful result in fistfights, but it can be jarring and it slows the process, not by much but time matters most these days. You learn how to play the dodge game very quickly down here, but only a few of us can actually walk on the ground floor while distracted and still manage to come out in one piece.

We turn a corner leading to where Striker Eureka is docked, and once again I find myself in awe.

I have seen the videos of the Mark-V in combat (who hasn't?), but to see the Jaeger up close and in person, it's enough to make me giddy. The design of Striker has an elegance to it that the older machines certainly didn't strive for. We were just fighting to get them out there before there was nothing left to defend, but now I can see the potential Jaegers have when their designers are allowed time to think. Everything has a purpose, defense, offense, aerodynamics, there is a reason for it all. Real thought was put into this beast.

I feel my fingers twitch, itching to get inside and work the controls. No offense to Indigo, but my Jaeger has the reaction time of molasses in January. Striker moves so fast, I sometimes imagine there's just a giant human in a suit fighting the Kaiju.

…okay, that sounds dumb. Doesn't make it any less true, though.

"You Aussies get all the good stuff," I mumble as my head cranes upward.

Herc chuckles. "State of the art, top of the class…and probably the last of her kind."

"Why do you say that?" I ask as my eyes scour the Conn-pod.

"I'm sure you've seen the news. No one wants to risk spending that much money."

I snort. "Politicians have no right debating this stuff. They understand it about as well as I do Shakespeare."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him turn toward me. "Not one for literature?"

"Why do you think I joined the Army?"

He chuckles again and I smirk. At least he's easy to get along with. You can't say that about most Rangers.

"And what have we here?" A voice calls out from behind us. Next thing I know, there's an arm wrapped around my shoulder. The other is around Herc. "Major, are you eying my ride?"

Speaking of Rangers that are hard to get along with.

Herc rolls his eyes and brushes the arm off his shoulders. I choose to just ignore mine.

Scott Hansen is Herc's younger brother and co-pilot. The two men are very similar in appearance. Both are tall, redheaded, although Scott's is much brighter, and blue-eyed. Personality wise, they couldn't have been more opposite. Scott is a cocky bastard, or at least that is what I picked out in the 20 minutes I spent with him the other day. He's also a flirt, and a horrible one at that. Every time I see the two together, it always looks as though Herc barely tolerates his presence. I can hardly blame him.

"No, absolutely not," I state with heavy sarcasm.

"It's okay to be jealous. I mean, if I were driving anything less, I'd be too."

"Uh huh."

Herc sighs. "Scott."

"Hey, I'm not bothering her. I just have a couple questions, then you can have this beautiful woman all to yourself again."

Oh Jesus Christ.

"Ranger, you do know I'm your superior officer, correct?"

Scott backs off, but smiles. "Alright, alright. But honestly, I do have a question. You remember that news conference last year, the one after you beat Hammerhead?"

It's hard not to remember.

"Maybe." I finally turn to meet him. "What about it?"

His smile grows, about ready to bust his face. "You gave a great speech, darling, though I can't help but wonder why you mentioned my pathetically introverted brother over there and not me. After all, our esteemed commander would have gotten nowhere without his brother."

Herc makes a face. I get the feeling this is a common subject of debate, the importance of one brother versus the other. I feel like I am staring at the Australian version of my sister and me.

Idealistically, this would be the time I simply tell him to fall in line and not give a crap what the media hears, but I can't help myself.

"I only talk about people worth mentioning."

Scott chuckles. "And what is it that deems me unworthy?"

"Ranger, if you don't know, there is nothing I can do to help you."

"You sure about that?" Scott dares to come closer, standing mere inches from me. "Maybe we could discuss it sometime in a more private setting, less metal, more fabric."

Herc grabs his brother by the collar and yanks him away, saving him from a face full of coffee. Scott spins away, almost falling to the ground, but managing to find his balance.

"Enough!" Herc shouts, his voice echoing. Hardly anyone in the Shatterdome flinches. That says a lot. "You need to learn some goddamn respect."

"And you need to talk that stick out of your ass, Herc. Marshal may have made you a commander, but you're still just my co-pilot."

Herc looks ready to do something, but must think better of it because he relaxes and lets his brother go. Scott slinks away without protest, though not before sending a wink in my direction. I slam down the rest of my coffee as I grimace.

"Sorry about that," Herc starts, turning to me. "Scott's never had a good grasp of humility, or his age for that matter."

I shrug. "It's okay. He's harmless. Creepy and annoying as hell, but nothing that can't be handled."

"Listen, if he gives you any problems-"

"Then you can visit him in the infirmary."

Herc nods, approving. "Glad it was you Marshal sent over."

I smile and am about to reply when sirens blare across the Shatterdome.

_RED ALERT! MOVEMENT IN THE BREACH! ALL PERSONNEL REPORT TO THEIR STATIONS! RED ALERT!_

* * *

Sorry there's no Chuck yet :( He'll be here in later chapters, promise!

Thanks for reading! Please feel free to comment, critique or point out any flaws there may be.


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